Contrary Mary eBook

After the drill, Porter took the whole party back
to Delilah’s for tea. And when her guests
had gone, and the black-haired beauty went to her
flamingo room to dress for dinner, she found a note
on her pincushion.

“I have taken Barry’s picture, because
he meant it for me; it was a mistake, your getting
it. He left it with the new maid one day when
you were at our house, and she handed it to you instead
of to me—­she mixed up our names, just as
the maids used to mix them up at school. And
I know you won’t mind my taking it, because with
you it is just a game to play at love—­with
Barry. But it is my life, as you said that day
in the Park. And to-day Barry told me that it
is his life, too. And I am very happy.
But this is our secret, and please let it be your
secret until we let the rest of the world know——­”

Delilah, reading the childish scrawl, smiled and shook
her head. Then she went to the telephone and
called up Leila.

Then, triumphant from the other end of the line, came
the voice of Perfect Faith—­“Oh, Barry’s
worth it. I’ve known him all my life,
Lilah, and I’ve never had a single doubt.”

CHAPTER IX

In Which Roger Sallies Forth in the Service of
a Damsel in Distress, and in Which He Meets Dragons
Along the Way.

In the weeks which followed the trip to Fort Myer,
Mary found an astonishing change in her brother.
For the first time in his life he seemed to be taking
things seriously. He stayed at home at night
and studied. He gave up Jerry Tuckerman and
the other radiant musketeers. She did not know
the reason for the change but it brought her hope and
happiness.

Barry saw Leila often, but, as yet, no one but Delilah
Jeliffe knew of the tie between them.

“I ought to tell Dad,” Leila had said,
timidly; “he’d be very happy. It
is what he has always wanted, Barry.”

“I must prove myself a man first,” Barry
told her, “I’ve squandered some of my
opportunities, but now that I have you to work for,
I feel as strong as a lion.”

They were alone in the General’s library.
“It is because you trust me, dear one,”
Barry went on, “that I am strong.”

She slipped her little hand into his. “Barry—­it
seems so queer to think that I shall ever be—­your
wife.”

“You had to be. It was meant from the—­beginning.”

“Was it, Barry?”

“Yes.”

“And it will be to the end. Oh, I shall
always love you, dearly, dearly——­”

It was idyllic, their little love affair—­their
big love affair, if one judged by their measure.
It was tender, sweet, and because it was their secret,
because there was no word of doubt or of distrust from
those who were older and wiser, they brought to it
all the beauty of youth and high hope.